A few days ago, I was in line at the supermarket and while Greta faisait du charme with the ladies behind us I was thinking about the power and the effect of colors on us, on me. In my shopping cart I could see the red color of the strawberries and of the tomatoes, the yellow of the ears of wheat, the purple black of the wine.

How does it happen that a color, stops being what it is and remains entangled, twisted to something, to an object, to a memory? The red is for me inextricably linked to the Red Balloon, an Albert Lamorisse’s short film and to the images of the balloon and the baby for a walk in Paris in the late 50s; the yellow is the muffled hair of Calippo, a duckling I adopted when I was a child in a fair of the ‘Crocifisso’. For two days he followed me step by step, just like a duckling could do. He slept for two nights crouched between my neck and my hair and died in that position, with a sad look in his eyes. The silver color reminds me of my Sicilian great-grandmother ‘s long hair. She used to hide it for modesty in a tight bun with a hundred hairpins, and to show and comb it only a few minutes before going to bed. In those few minutes she became again a little girl, just like me, ready to turn around and tell me “shall we play?” The purple black reminds me of the blackberries and blueberries harvested in August in the mountains, of the wicker basket, of the arms scratched by brambles and spotted dresses. Even Eloise has stained so many clothes with her greedy little fingers, and those stains will not go away, they become part of the fabric of the dress.

In the garden we planted blackberries and wild strawberries. Both in a pot. The former because they are weeds, the latter because they could be infested by other plants and suffocate. They start giving the first timid fruit, but for now we continue to buy them and support local farmers

We turned on the grill, in one with the wood, for the first time. The smell of lamb marinated with mint and the sweetness of the corn on the cob wrapped the evening air and the chatter among friends. I wanted a simple dessert, red fruit and brown sugar. Summer is around the corner, it whispered in my ear while no one was looking.

Pre-heat the oven at 175C. In a pan cook the blackberries with the sugar and the grated ginger. Let caramelize for few minutes and set aside. In a bowl, mix flours, cutted butter, salt and sugar. Whisk and knead with the fingers. Butter an oven pan and pour in the blackberries and the grated tiger, cover with the crumble, sprinkle with brown sugar and cook for 20 minutes. Serve with mascarpone cream or crème fraiche.

5 thoughts on “Blackberries crumble with a ginger blow”

Does managing a well-established blog like yours require a massive amount work?
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